spectrum
by sunspots and raindrops
Summary: Because the brooding bad boy and the pega-pony princess do belong together, after all - you just have to find where the ends of the spectrum match up. Really, darkness and light are just two halves of the same whole, and they've never been whole without each other. — [Cynthia/Gerome; semi-sequel to "nuance."] COMPLETE.
1. the stars exploding

**A/N:** Just a heads-up – while this is not a direct sequel, necessarily, it does follow the events from my Lucinigo fic "nuance." You don't _have_ to read that to read this; however it would just provide some context, and these two did have some interaction in it. [fyi, in this !verse, Cyn is Henry's daughter and Gerome is Lon'qu's son.]

This was intended to be a one-shot, but it's shaping up to be more like "nuance" - under ten chapters, each 1-2k words long.

 **I WILL BE POSTING EVERY OTHER DAY as it's mostly complete.**

Disclaimer - this _will_ draw from their in-game support conversations every once in a while, and the Cyn/Inigo broship is my life.

* * *

It was through a mouthful of blackberry scone that Cynthia found herself spluttering, " _What?!_ "

Inigo donned a look of incredulity as he inspected the damage to his shirt. "Gods, Cyn, say it, don't spray it!" he exclaimed, hurriedly brushing himself off.

"Sorry," she muttered. Swallowing the remnants of the sweet that _hadn't_ made it all over Inigo, she attempted a calmer tone. "But are you serious? Lucina is _in love with you_?!"

They were alone in her tent, but he glanced around as if checking for eavesdroppers. Silently, he nodded, a grin spreading across his face. He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "We're getting married. Not right now, of course, but once things settle down–"

"Oh my goodness, Inigo!" she squealed happily, leaping over to hug him. "That's _so_ great!"

"Cyn...thia... can't… breathe!" he pushed her off of him with an insincere glare. "For Naga's sake, woman, calm yourself!"

She was practically bouncing up and down with glee as she excused her enthusiasm, "But I'm just so so so _so_ happy for you guys!"

"Yeah…" he said softly, a wistful smile on his lips, "It's… more than I ever hoped for."

"Right! And you thought you didn't have a chance," the blonde scoffed, poking Inigo in the chest. "I _told_ you I was right! Cynthia saves the day again! You're welcome," she sang.

"Seriously, Cynthia, thank you. If I can ever do anything to–"

She cut him off, face suddenly serious, "Yes, there's something you can do!"

Expression apprehensive, Inigo ventured, "I'm guessing it has something to do with our favorite misanthropic, mask-wearing wyvern rider?"

"Doesn't it always?" Cynthia sighed, for once her cheerful disposition conceding to exasperation. "I just don't _understand_ … boys, men, him, whatever!" she said, waving her hands about.

"So what is it you would have me do?" Inigo asked, assuming an air of nonchalance as he slathered a scone with jam. "I mean, I would venture to say he and I are friends – I did drag him out to try to pick up girls a time or two… But you are much closer to him than I am." He bit into his snack, "You always have been."

"That's exactly the point!" she moaned, throwing her hands over her face. "We _have_ been. As in the _past_ , as in _not anymore_. Now he practically bolts every time he sees me!"

Inigo munched silently, contemplating whether or not he should reveal the real reason behind Gerome's behavior. He had a feeling that it wasn't a good idea, but he thought of Cynthia like a little sister, and seeing her so distressed was distressing to _him._

Before he could say anything one way or the other, dark eyes peered out from behind the pegasus knight's fingers. "Do you think… Do you think he hates me, Inigo?" Her hands and gaze fell to her lap, "I thought he liked me, too, but… maybe I was wrong."

Her breath hitched, "I – I've told him so many times that I love him, tried so hard to make him happy, even just to have a simple conversation with him but… Maybe he really does hate me."

"To be fair, Cyn, he kind of treats everyone like that–"

"But I'm supposed to be _different_!" she exclaimed, desperation evident. "When we were kids, we were best friends! We would talk for hours, ride my pegasus all afternoon, play Justice Cabal together… He told me I was graceful and beautiful and smart and a hero! And all this time, I've tried my very best to become those things…" Her voice broke, "But last time I tried to talk to him, he yelled at me that we weren't children anymore. Maybe… Maybe it's just not good enough. Maybe it will _never_ be good enough."

Sighing loudly, Inigo decided to at least give her a push in the right direction. "Cynthia," he broke into the downward spiral of her thoughts, "I highly doubt that's the case. But there's only one way to find out."

She looked up at him hopefully, and he answered her unspoken question, "You're going to have to ask him."

* * *

Cynthia sat on a crate in the food supply tent, kicking up dust as she scuffed her boot back and forth, deep in thought. What Inigo had said had made sense in an obvious sort of way, but what if she asked Gerome and the truth was that he _did_ hate her? Her expression turned sour. No, that – that would be worse than not knowing! But the not-knowing had been driving her crazy… She sighed. Her thoughts were going nowhere but in circles. Giving up on "pointless thinking time" as she had dubbed it, the blonde raised her head, preparing to leave, and lo and behold, the object of her contemplation had appeared across the tent. _Just my luck,_ she thought almost despondently. Her heart gave a lurch at the sight of him, painfully handsome and apparently completely oblivious to her presence. _Well… perhaps Inigo is right,_ Cynthia decided on a whim, and hopped down from the crate.

As she approached, she heard Gerome muttering to himself as he picked through a basket of vegetables, his back to her. Curiosity getting the better of her, she stayed silent for a few moments, waiting for him to say something intelligible. Eventually, he said in a self-admonishing tone, "I shouldn't have done it. It was cruel."

Popping into his field of vision, she plastered on a smile and forced cheer into her voice, "What was cruel?!"

He yelled in surprise, stumbling backwards and losing his grip on the potatoes he'd had in hand. Regaining his balance, he asked, "H-how long have you been there?!"

Cynthia reined in a chuckle as she bent to retrieve the potatoes he'd dropped – she couldn't help thinking he was adorable when he was all flustered. "Oh, I've been here forever! You would have noticed too, if you weren't so completely lost in thought. If I was a foe, I could have lopped off your head without you ever realizing it."

Gerome bristled at this, "Yes, but in battle, I would be much more dilig–"

"Don't forget, you're a proper hero now! You can't afford to let your guard down." She decided to tease him just a bit, adding with a facade of intense disappointment, "It just looks bad."

Cynthia was sure that his eyes were narrowed in annoyance beneath the impenetrable surface of his mask. "Who said I was a hero? Apart from you, I mean."

Her voice regained its usual cheeriness as she took his hands and returned their previous contents, "Oh, Gerome, you don't have to be so modest. I love you anyway!"

"Y-you love me?"

Resisting the urge to sigh in exasperation – _how dense could he_ _ **be**_ _? –_ she smiled. "Yeah, of course I do, silly. Anyway, that's not why I came to talk to you. I have a question for you." Leaning in so closely that she could smell the faint scent of Minerva's tack, she informed him solemnly, "A very important question."

The dark-haired man moved to keep her at arm's length, "Hold! Return to the part about lo—"

But Cynthia didn't even register his protest, all her courage focused into a single sentence. "Do you hate me?"

"What?" After a moment, it was clear she wouldn't budge without some sort of answer, and he countered with a question of his own, " ...Why do you ask?"

A sigh escaped her, and she couldn't keep the vulnerable look off of her face as she swallowed visibly. Silent seconds passed as she nervously twirled a lock of silvery-blonde hair around her index finger, and when Cynthia responded, her voice was honest but very small. "Because, it sometimes feels like you're trying very, very hard to avoid me."

Gerome did not refute the claim, and suddenly Cynthia realized the weight of her question. This was exactly what she had feared – he really _did_ hate her, he _was_ avoiding her on purpose! A sense of dread settled in her stomach like a stone, and her heart seemed lodged in her throat. Or maybe it was oncoming sobs, she couldn't tell, and it didn't really matter anyway. He hated her; the world would never be bright again. Biting her lip so hard she thought she'd break the skin, Cynthia dared not say anything more.

At length, he turned away, saying softly, "I find you difficult to be around."

Pale fingers flew up to her mouth as the pegasus knight gasped in shock. She reminded herself that she had asked for this, but the despair in her voice was clear as she whispered defeatedly, "No…" It had been one thing to admit the truth inwardly, but to _hear_ the words from his lips… it was more painful than she could have imagined. "Oh I knew it…"

"I'm not finished," Gerome interrupted her train of thought. His expression was perplexed for a moment, as if he was trying very hard to get things sorted out in his head, to select the correct words. "You have always been a perpetual ray of sunshine in my life," he admitted, though he still wore a frown. "But sometimes, a man like me wishes to draw the curtains and sit in the dark."

Her question was innocent, merely curious, "Like a troglodyte?"

"Please don't misunderstand me. I don't dislike you. Your good humor raises people's spirits and dispels the horrors of war. You are a shining beacon of hope, reminding us there can be a better future. You light the fires of optimism and inspire us to keep striving."

Eyes widening, Cynthia almost could not believe what she had just heard. "...Gosh. You make me sound so… important." A toothy grin split her face – "More of this please!" – before her thoughts caught up to her mouth. "But wait… I guess if you think that, you can't possibly hate me…" A few seconds passed, before she added hopefully, "...Right?

"None of your comrades dislike you, myself included," Gerome answered firmly, and though the words sounded a little more grudging than she would have preferred, Cynthia would take it.

"Phew! That's a relief!" Clapping him on the back she said, "Thanks, Gerome! We'll talk soon, I promise."

Making her way the entrance of the tent, she could hardly keep from skipping in joy, even when she heard behind her, "W-wait! My point was that I do not want to talk!"

 _Well, that's just too bad mister,_ she thought gleefully. _A hero always keeps her promises!_


	2. we'll be fireproof

The Shepherds hadn't fought a battle in days, eight absolutely _excruciating_ days to be exact. And each day that passed without action increased Cynthia's boredom exponentially. Sure, she was glad for the peace, but what was the use of a hero that wasn't doing any heroic deeds?

It didn't help that Gerome had been just as inscrutable as ever – while he did allow her presence more often, she was no closer to figuring out if he had any feelings for her beyond tentative friendship. Once, she had been so sure, but their travel across time had not left Gerome unchanged, and she feared this was just one of the ways he had been altered.

Cynthia grumbled to herself as she dragged herself from her bedroll, half-heartedly adjusting her pigtails and pulling on her clothes. _What to do today?_ She'd already tried to come up with heroic battle entrances for almost everyone in camp, and even _that_ was getting boring! She needed a marauder band to crush or a fair maiden to save or a wicked assassin to eliminate…

These musings continued as she made her way to the mess, where she snatched a biscuit and sat down next to Inigo. He just stared at her for a moment, as the force of her action had rattled the entire table. "... Cynthia?" he ventured.

She didn't respond, taking an unnecessarily ferocious bite instead. Inigo knew that while Cynthia in a bad temper was rare, it was also dangerous and should be handled as soon as humanly possible. "Cynthia," he tried again. "What's wrong?"

At that, she flung her upper body down on the table, a wail escaping from her, "I'm so boooooooooored! I can't stand it!"

Thanking his lucky stars that she was only bored and irritated, not truly upset or angry, the dancer patted her on the head. "Hey, it's okay, I know. We're all bored and I–"

" _You_." She sat up with a glare and poked him in the chest, as if it hadn't been clear she was addressing him. " _You_ at least have something to be happy about! You at least have _someone_ to–"

Before Cynthia's voice could rise any further in volume, he slapped a palm over her mouth. "Gods, Cyn, get it together!" he hissed. "And for the love of Naga, _shush!_ No one else knows yet!"

She glared at him for moment before her brows tilted and her eyes seemed to mist over. Deeming it safe, Inigo took his hand away, resting it on her back instead. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I think maybe you're just getting a case of cabin… well, camp fever. You need a distraction. Does that sound good?"

"Mhmm," she nodded, the moisture in her eyes no longer threatening to spill over.

"Well why don't you take your pegasus out for a ride?" He suggested. "I have to help Owain in the armory, and gods know how long that could take," he muttered, half-under his breath. "But I promise to get out of there as soon as possible and come train with you a bit, okay?"

"Okay," Cynthia agreed, "I guess that would be better than just sitting around here all day…" After thinking it over for few seconds, she added, "Can you bring your bow? I could use some practice dodging arrows."

"Of course," he smiled. Standing, Inigo instructed, "Now go saddle up your pegasus and treat yourself to a nice, scenic flight, alright?"

"Yep!"

With that, the warrior took his leave, and Cynthia also rose, attempting to calculate how long it would take Inigo at the armory. Shaking her head, she gave up - knowing Owain, he might be there until long after sundown. But the thought of flying… Of getting out of camp _at all_ was enough to make her pick up her pace as she headed toward the pen where her steed was.

* * *

Her favorite pegasus, Subaki, was saddled and ready to go as she led him from the makeshift stabling area the Shepherds used while they were on the road.

"Who's a good boy, who's a good boy?" she crooned to him with a grin. A long-suffering snort was all the response she got as she swung atop the pegasus. Settling into the saddle, Cynthia ran a hand over his neck, urging him into a trot with a soft click of her tongue as they reached an area of open field.

As they gained enough speed, she gently nudged him with her boots, and strong wingbeats brought them airborne, circling easily above the grassy meadow as they caught an updraft. The blonde felt the urge to laugh, so she did, eyes closing and head tilting back in glee.

Ever since she'd been a little girl, she'd always wanted to be a pegasus knight like her mother – her hero – had been. Cynthia would never forget the first time she'd ridden a the winged breed – she'd been too small to go on her own, so Cordelia had taken her, and she had fallen in love. The feeling of flying, of being so very _free_ – it had become a part of her, one thing she knew she would not give up for anything in the world.

Subaki had been drifting through the sky leisurely, only the occasional flex of his wings keeping them aloft, but once he warmed up, Cynthia steered him into maneuvers that were half battle practice and half simple fun. They wheeled through sparse clouds, sharp dips and turns inciting more happy chortles from her and a few pleased whinnies from the pegasus.

 _Inigo was right_ , she thought. _It's been too long since I had a quality flying session._ So she took her time, circling outside the borders of camp, enjoying the simplicity of the untouched pastoral scenery, so unlike the Risen-ravaged countryside of her original time.

But after a half-hour, she sensed Subaki beginning to tire. So as not to exhaust him, Cynthia turned them back, and they landed in the soft grasses near the paddock.

She swung out of the saddle, and led him inside to care for his tack. She was brushing out his creamy coat when her steed stilled, the both of them picking out distressed voices from the other side of a group of horses.

"You may look like my father. but you are not the same man. My father is dead and gone. ...You are a stranger."

Cynthia had recognized Gerome's cold voice immediately, and the other party was obviously Lon'qu. Carefully sidling over to more effectively hide behind her pegasus, she didn't make out anything else other than frustrated tones before there was the sound of what could only be Minerva's lumbering gait, Gerome's precise footsteps barely audible as they followed alongside.

Closing her eyes in a childish effort to make herself more invisible, the blonde thought herself in the clear until she heard, "Cynthia?"

Her eyes cracked open, met with the sight of Gerome – dark eyebrows arched above his mask and a fist gripping the reins of Minerva's harness tightly.

"Uh, hiya, Gerome!" She stumbled over her words, "I, um, I was just, well…"

Clearly, no excuse she gave would be sufficient for the wyvern rider and so Cynthia settled for the truth. "I was just grooming Subaki after our ride, I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I'm sorry."

When Gerome didn't respond, simply standing there, she added hastily, "I really didn't hear anything anyway! Promise!"

He sighed, grip slackening on the wyvern's lead. "It doesn't matter either way, Cynthia. It was of no consequence."

Gerome had half-turned to leave when Cynthia's unusually soft volume stopped him. "Gerome, you don't have to tell me anything, but you don't have to lie to me, either."

Still, he did not say anything, though he did not go any farther, and she found herself changing the subject, almost desperately. "Hey, um, were you taking Minerva out for a ride?"

"As a matter of fact, I was," he replied. "What of it?"

Cynthia knew she had to play this right or he would end up brooding alone, as he was wont to do even without an additional incident prodding him to do so. "Weeeeell... would you mind taking me along with you?" Before he could reject the idea, she added, wheedling, "I mean, I know I just took Subaki out, but to be honest, I'm going crazy being stuck in camp and I would really appreciate it. Besides, it'll be just like when we were kids and we'd ride together for hours! I'm sure sweet Minervykins wouldn't mind having me as a passenger again." At that, the wyvern made a noise that Cynthia prayed was approval.

"Pleeeeease?" she tacked on for good measure.

"... Fine," he acquiesced. "But only for a little while."

"Yay!" she responded, trying to use her enthusiasm to eclipse his dark mood.

"But _no_ heroic stunts, you understand?" he instructed seriously.

"Yes, sir!" Giving Subaki a last pat of affection, she grasped Gerome's free hand. Ignoring his sudden stiffness, she simply forged ahead. "Come on, there's a wyvern saddle big enough for two just outside the paddock!"

And while his palm became cold and clammy against hers, Gerome did not protest; so Cynthia took that, at least, as one small victory in the campaign for his heart.

* * *

 **A/N** : Subaki's name was stolen from FE: Fates because I couldn't think of anything else haha.

Two chapters out today to give more of a feel for where this is going, I will update again on Sunday~

As always, please let me know if you find any grammatical/spelling/formatting errors! :)


	3. tripping on skies

They had ridden for the remainder of the morning, the silence only broken by exclamations of childlike wonder from Cynthia – _Isn't it amazing how that flock of sparrows flies as one?! Wow, the river is so beautiful! Look at that waterfall!_ – and infrequent, disgruntled comments from Gerome – _Your hair is getting in my mouth, Cynthia. You just stabbed me in the ribs with your elbow, Cynthia. Are you incapable of sitting still, Cynthia?_

But even with her greater stamina, Minerva had needed to rest, and they had taken a break about a half-mile from camp, nearby the waterfall that Cynthia had pointed out.

"Isn't it so peaceful here?" she asked dreamily from where she lay sprawled in the grass.

"... I suppose it is."

"I could stay here forever…" Rolling over to rest her weight on an elbow, her musings took a turn toward more serious topics. "Gerome… Do you think we'll ever go back to our future?"

"I don't see why we would," he answered her matter-of-factly.

Cynthia exhaled in a sigh, slumping back to the ground. "I don't think we will either," she admitted. "There really isn't anything for us to go back to, huh?"

Her tone had become despondent, and Gerome did not let it go without comment. "This melancholy is unlike you, Cynthia."

She knew it was his way of asking her what was wrong, and replied, "Well once the war is over, I mean… if we can defeat Grima… what are we supposed to do?"

At that, he, too, reclined in the grass, saying quietly, "I cannot answer that… I do not know. There is no place for us in this world… at least not as ourselves."

"Gerome," she addressed him, sitting up. Dark eyes trained on his mask, she waited to continue until she was sure he was looking at her. "I think you should try a little harder to get to know your parents."

His brows disappeared beneath his mask, and she would bet good money that he was glaring as he rejected the idea flatly. "No. There is no point. I am not their son, they are not my parents."

As he turned away from her, his voice gained an edge. "My parents... are dead."

Distressed, small-boned fingers fisted in the material of her skirt. "No, Gerome, they're not! I mean, they are, but they're not, not in this time! They're _alive_! We have the chance to get to know them, to spend time with them – it's a miracle! Why can't you appreciate that…?" she trailed off softly.

"Cynthia, you should learn not to pry into matters that do not concern you." His voice was hard again, unfeeling. "If you want to convince yourself you can be a happy fake family with your 'parents', if you want to delude yourself into thinking that they actually _care_ for you, at least until they have their _real_ daughter in this time, then so be it. But do not presume to tell _me_ what to do," he finished icily.

And with that, Gerome had struck at the heart of her insecurities as surely as if he had speared her straight through the ribs with his lance, the pain almost tangible, taking her breath away for a moment.

"Fine!" she snapped, standing abruptly. She was _fuming_ , and desperate to lash out. "I won't ever try to help you again, you _jerk!_ I don't know why I even bother trying to be friends with you, anyway! I don't know why I still care!"

She could not look at him. "Maybe if you had it in you to stop being so absurdly self-absorbed for _two freaking seconds_ you would start to resemble an _actual human being_ , Gerome! I'm just so… I'm _done_ with this! With _you!_ " she spat, turning on her heel.

Except that Cynthia did know why she still tried, and she knew better than anyone that he was a real person with emotions that ran deep and strong.

And the worst part was, she knew it would not hurt so much if she did not love him, because … when it came to him, she could never be 'done.' If only life were that easy.

* * *

Immediately following her outburst, Cynthia had stomped off childishly toward camp, trying to convince herself that it didn't matter that he had not stopped her, had not tried to follow her. It didn't matter that he didn't care.

Her tantrum had felt good in the moment, as she had never been one to hide her emotions, but now, weaving through the maze of tents to her own, her anger had begun to wear off, leaving her with only regret and sorrow.

With her eyes trained on the ground, she accidentally shoulder-checked someone, but Cynthia did not look up or stop, only taking a moment to regain her balance. "Ugh, you idiot, watch where you're going!" Severa bristled in her wake. "Gods!"

There was the quick rhythm of boots on hard-packed dirt, and she heard from behind her, "Hey, Cynthia! I tried to find you earlier, where have you been?"

But she didn't turn toward the sound, only closing her eyes and trudging along. "Cyn? ... Cyn!" This time the voice was joined by a hand at her elbow, halting her in her tracks.

"What is it, Inigo?" she choked out, trying but failing to keep her voice from betraying her.

"Cynthia, what's wrong?"

She could tell he had moved to stand in front of her, but she could do no more than clench her eyes shut more tightly, shaking her head. Cynthia knew that if she tried to speak again now, it would not be pretty, and a semi-public breakdown was not something she wanted to endure.

A single tear leaked from her lashes, and the hand Inigo still had on her arm steered her into his side. "Come on, love, let's get you back to your tent," he said, voice pitched low with concern.

Nodding weakly, she let him guide her to the safety of what was her current home, and when they were inside, all she could do was clutch his shirt and cry.

"I wish I could stop loving him," she confessed in a broken sob.

Fingers smoothing over the crown of her head, all Inigo could give her was a pained mantra of, "I know, Cyn, I know."

* * *

Letting the tent flap fall closed behind him, Inigo frowned more deeply. After some time, Cynthia had cried herself to sleep, and it broke his heart to see her that way – tear-soaked strands of hair plastered to her face, shadows darkening under her eyes, expression still twisted in agony.

And Inigo was a man who usually smiled for anything, for anyone, but now – now he was _livid_ , and heaven help Gerome when he found him, because Inigo was keen to send the other man to _hell_.

He found him in the practice yard with Kjelle, dark hair, clothing, and mask giving him away from a distance. But Inigo did not run, simply striding evenly toward Gerome, purpose in every step. Heedless of the lance the wyvern rider still held, the redhead smiled, not slowing his advance.

"... Inigo?" Gerome asked, obviously puzzled at his approach.

"Hi there, Gerome!" he greeted him brightly. Turning toward the armor-clad girl, his grin grew, "Kjelle, would you mind excusing us for a moment?"

She didn't say anything, simply clanking her way out of the yard, and Inigo watched her go.

"What can I help you with, Inigo?" Gerome queried, a tinge of annoyance in his words. "If you think I'm going to go scam on women at the village tavern with you tonight then you can think again, because last time they–"

And no one would ever know what those village girls had done to him, because that was when Inigo punched him in the face.

There was a clatter when the lance dropped, Gerome having stumbled backward, hand raised to his cheek in disbelief. "What was that?!" he shouted angrily.

Still the smile had not left Inigo's lips, and his arm pulled back for another strike.

"Inigo!" a female voice carried over to the two men, and they both swiveled to find Lucina with Kjelle at the fence, the princess' expression concerned, Kjelle's unflappable as always.

"Lucina, it's fine," he called out to her. "Please go check on Cynthia."

"Cynthia?" Gerome whispered, fingers still pressed to his cheekbone where a red mark was blooming.

"It doesn't _look_ fine," Lucina protested, though the two women still began to leave.

"Trust me, it _will_ be," Inigo assured her, and turned back to Gerome, smile still out of place as it dominated his features. "Now, Gerome, where were we?"

"Wait! Inigo, what's going on?" he asked, curiosity winning out over his desire to retaliate as he ducked Inigo's measured blows. "What's this about Cynthia?"

"Oh, I think you know," the redhead replied, saccharine tone at odds with his physical onslaught.

Gerome did not question him further, and when Inigo landed another punch, knuckles cracking against Gerome's mask, the dark-haired man found himself knocked to the ground.

In a moment, Inigo had straddled him, hands fisting in the collar of his garments as his grin finally dropped. "You need to _wake_ _ **up**_ _,_ Gerome," he hissed, eyes narrowed and tone poisonous. "You have been screwing around with her feelings _long enough!_ "

Though he felt his mask slipping down on one side, Gerome dared not move, remembering he was in the grip of a warrior, an assassin's son. "Inigo, really, I don't know what–"

" _You know_ _ **exactly**_ _what I'm talking about!_ " Inigo's bellowed into the other man's face, his ire getting the better of him. After a half-minute of heavy breathing, the redhead spoke again, voice even and precise, each word sharper than any sword he could have wielded. "You know _exactly_ what I am talking about. I don't know what you did, you insufferable, emotionally constipated, absolute _scum_ , and I don't need to know."

Struggling to inhale with the other man on top of him, Gerome remained silent, though it was clear his thoughts were racing.

Inigo released his grip and stood, looking down his nose at the man still sprawled in the dirt. "But you broke her, Gerome. You _broke_ the beautiful, happy, cheerful-in-the-face-of-anything Cynthia."

Gerome inhaled sharply, but he did not get the chance to respond.

"And you are _going_ to _**fix**_ it." There was no room for argument in Inigo's tone, and he finished with a dangerous softness, "Or, Naga help me, I am going to _make_ you."

With that, Inigo stalked away, leaving the other man alone in the dust with that threat and his thoughts.

* * *

 **A/N** : Thanks so much to _Rapis-Razuri_ and _sirmuz00_ for reviewing and everyone else who's taken this time to read this; glad someone out there was looking forward to my romantic ramblings! :D

Like I warned you, Cyn/Inigo broship is everything haha. And I rather like protective nii-san type Inigo ^3^

As per usual, let me know if you find any errors!

Until Tuesday~


	4. sipping waterfalls

Cynthia woke with a spasmodic jerk, startled into consciousness abruptly as she tried to make sense of her jumbled thoughts.

It had been so dark, and she had never felt more isolated – the emptiness reminded her that she was, without a doubt, a person who wasn't even supposed to exist, someone with no place in the world, with no one who loved her. Gerome's voice had reverberated through her head – _If you want to delude yourself into thinking that they actually care for you, at least until they have their real daughter in this time, then so be it._

 _No, they love me, they do!_ she tried to protest, but his voice was everywhere – every particle seemed saturated with his disdain. _Just remember, no one loves you. No one. Especially not_ _ **me**_ _._ With that, his words had descended into a caustic chuckle, then morphing into Grima's laugh, one she had heard only once but would never forget. _Puny human, everyone is gone, you let everyone die… again!_ It had echoed mockingly in the empty void until they were a whisper, until there was _nothing_. She had screamed her denial, screamed just to _hear_ something, screamed until her voice was gone… until she had realized that she was truly **alone**.

Clutching the blanket to her chest, she sat up, desperately gulping in lungfuls of air. She started again when there was a soft murmur from beside her and a gentle hand at her elbow.

"Cynthia, it's okay," the voice assured her. "It was just a dream."

Squinting in the dim light, she identified the other person – "Lucina?"

The princess nodded, golden circlet glinting in the glow from the small lantern across the tent.

"Why … why are you here?" Cynthia found herself asking.

Lucina's face was kind as she replied, "Inigo asked me to check on you." Closing the book she'd been reading, she pressed a cup into Cynthia's hands, urging, "Here, drink. You've been asleep all afternoon."

She accepted it gratefully, finding that her throat was dry – probably from all the crying. Draining the contents of the cup, she set it aside. "What time is it now?"

"About six in the evening. Everyone else is in the mess hall having dinner, so Inigo went to get some food for you. He didn't want to wake you, said you... needed your rest." Lucina's pause had been a beat too long, and Cynthia knew what she wasn't saying – that Inigo had known she wouldn't be able to face Gerome anyhow.

Cynthia's hands went to toy with the edge of the blanket again, twisting and untwisting. She was unsure what to say; what had Inigo told Lucina? She didn't feel much like talking... but thankfully that seemed to be perfectly fine with her companion, as the princess said, "He should be back soon, why don't you lie back down?"

She complied, and Lucina went back to reading quietly, the only sound the occasional rustle as she turned a page.

Soon enough, Cynthia found herself drifting somewhere between wakefulness and sleep – she was too afraid to dream after what had happened earlier, but still, nonsensical thoughts and images filled up her head. As much as she wished to forget, her landscape of her subconscious was made up of monsters that were only half-imagined.

In her semi-aware state, she eventually heard, "Lucina, love, can you let me in? My hands are full."

Sitting up, Cynthia watched as she lifted the flap to allow him entry, and the smell from the tray he carried made the blonde realize just how long it had been since breakfast. The lovers exchanged a few hushed words before Lucina said, "I'd better get going. I hope you are well again soon, Cynthia."

With that she exited, and Inigo made his way over. "Hey there, Cyn," he greeted her with a careful smile. Setting the food down beside her, he asked, "Feel like eating anything?"

"I don't know," she said softly, but apparently her body had other ideas, since her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

The redhead chuckled, "Well, I'm going to take that as a yes." He picked up a napkin-wrapped bundle and handed it to her with a grin – "Here, it's a meat pie with minced garlic and onions, just like you like them. Hopefully it's still hot."

Taking a bite, she took a moment to savor the taste – he'd been right, it _was_ just how she liked it – before thanking him. "Inigo, I really appreciate it, but you don't have to stay; you should… you should go be with Lucina."

His brows tilted concernedly. "Do you not want me here?"

"No, I'm not saying that, it's just…" Echoes of her nightmare rippled across her thoughts, "But you have Lucina now, it's more important for you to be with her."

"Cyn," he said, taking her unoccupied hand, "You are one of my best friends, like the sister I never had, and I will _always_ be here for you. You are like family to me; _you_ are important to me. That hasn't changed just because of things with me and Lucina."

Somehow, his words threatened to make her cry all over again, and she stuffed more food in her mouth as a distraction. As she chewed, he squeezed her hand reassuringly, but when her gaze dropped to where their fingers were curled together, she became suspicious, swallowing quickly.

"Inigo…" she began warily, "What happened to your hand?"

He hurriedly moved to enclose it with his other fingers, but it was too late – she'd already seen the broken skin and dull red discoloration of his knuckles. "I, uh, it's nothing, just from accidentally knocking over a rack of staves in the armory earlier…" he answered lamely.

But Cynthia wasn't having that. Setting the remainder of her food on the tray and turning toward him fully, she asked pointedly, "Inigo, what did you do?"

Looking away sheepishly, he admitted, "Well, I may or may not have found Gerome after you fell asleep earlier… I guess you could say that his mask and my fist had a disagreement?"

"Inigo! Why would you do that?!" Cynthia's voice became horrified as she contemplated the possible repercussions. She had been prepared to just apologize to Gerome for yelling at him and then hopefully let things go back to normal, but if Inigo had told him anything…

"Hey, he hurts you, I hurt him," was the simple logic that her friend offered.

"Did you… say anything?"

Inigo's face was deadly serious as he said, "Nothing he didn't need to hear."

"Oh gods," she groaned into her hands, "Why, Inigo, _why_?"

She found herself enveloped in a bear hug, her slight frame crushed against his sturdier one as her breath hitched. "Because I love you, Cyn, that's why."

He pulled away, holding her by the shoulders. "That brooding baby needed a wake-up call, and that's all I gave him, okay?" Arms circling her again, he added, "Everything is going to be okay, I promise."

"You trust me?" he asked after a minute.

Cynthia nodded against his chest, the pattern of her inhalations evening out.

"Good. So chin up. Everything is going to be just fine." He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head before moving back to examine her face, and she knew he was trying to assess her emotional state.

"Really, I'll be okay," she mustered a crooked smile. "Actually, I'm feeling really tired, I just want to go back to sleep."

"If you say so," Inigo replied skeptically, though he still stood, blowing out the lantern on his way out. Halfway through the entryway, he stopped and turned back, "If you need anything, I'll be just down the row in Lucina's tent."

Cynthia willed her lips to curve upwards again, and this time, it was easier. "Alright, thanks, Inigo. And… I love you, too."

He gave her his winning smile and wished her goodnight, and she laid down again in the dark. She would get some sleep, and in the morning… In the morning she would be back to being normal, bouncy Cynthia, and everything _would_ be okay. It would have to be.

* * *

 **A/N:** Special thanks to _The Reborn Honeybee_ and the two guests who reviewed, and also to everyone who's favorited or followed! I am so beyond ecstatic that y'all are loving these kids as much as I do :)

Sorry no Gerome this chapter, he'll be back next time to either a) upset Cynthia more or b) smooth things out between them. I'll let you guess which ;D

This next few days are gonna be super busy for me, so the next update will be _Friday_. Until then~


	5. mortal bodies, timeless souls

.

For the next two days, they _were_ okay – Cynthia was well-distracted by a run-in with some Risen, and being able to resume being a hero had put her in better spirits. She had not been avoiding Gerome, but they had not had a chance to talk, and she was somewhat grateful for the brief interlude without interaction. It was enough to see him around camp, and she watched as the bruise Inigo had given him slowly disappeared until it was only the barest shadow marring the sharp angle of his cheekbone.

While rationally she knew that his scathing remarks had been the product of his own insecurities, it did not change the fact that they had stung deeply. Her sleep had been marred by occasional anxiety – waking up alone, in the dark, to the dead silence of camp in the middle of the night. But she had decided to do her best not hold anything against Gerome; she still had a vestige of that nostalgic feeling – that she knew him better than anyone, and it prompted her forgiveness, prompted her to be understanding instead of bitter.

It was on the third day when they stumbled into a truly volatile conflict; confronted with two opposing forces, Robin had decided to fight both rather than side with one or the other, and now they faced enemies in all directions. The idea didn't intimidate Cynthia, but when she flew around a ruined wall, she caught sight of a man very different from his red-clad comrades – he wore blue armor, but it did not conceal his brown fur or rabbit ears, and the conclusion was immediate – _Yarne!_

She couldn't get any closer, but thankfully Panne was rounding the wall, and with their next advance, the taguels were reunited. However, the midst of battle was not the time for indulging in nostalgia, and Cynthia was sent to scout ahead, visiting villages to warn them of the approaching battle.

While the hamlet gates thudded shut, Cynthia leaned down to stow the beast killer the grateful villagers had gifted her with. Suddenly, Subaki's ears lay flat, and she twisted to see a bow knight behind her, killer bow at the ready. Her eyes widened as he strung an arrow, took aim, and let fly.

All she could do was shut her eyes and steel herself for the inevitable sting of arrowhead piercing flesh, but it never came. There was a clang as the arrow bounced off of something, and she heard a gruff voice reprimand her, "Pay attention."

Eyes flying open, she was met with the view of Gerome's back, he and Minerva between her and the enemy, deflecting what would have been a deadly attack. Hefting her lance, she guided her mount to swoop in low and she cut the bow knight down. Out of danger for the moment, she turned to her protector – "Thanks, Gerome! You really saved me there!"

"It was nothing," he replied, but at a second glance, she could see that he was breathing hard, and the hand that gripped his axe was white-knuckled. "You should be more aware of your surroundings, Cynthia. This is battle, not a game of Justice Cabal."

"I _know_ that," she found herself saying a little more testily than she'd intended. "I'm no green soldier; I can handle my own problems, Gerome." As soon as the words left her lips, she mentally kicked herself. She was supposed to be acting normal, and yet she was letting him get to her.

But he didn't respond, only readjusting his grip on his axe, face deliberately averted from hers.

"Gerome, I'm so–"

"There are still enemy forces to be dispatched," he cut her off. "Watch yourself." And with that, he took to the sky again, a dark blur against the clouds.

Cynthia sighed. This was going to be harder than she'd thought.

* * *

A mere three hours later, she found herself sighing again, but the cause this time was Lissa – the pegasus knight was stuck in the infirmary tent, currently getting an earful about strict bed rest for at least twenty-four hours and light duty to follow for the next few days. Needless to say, being bedridden and useless was most certainly _not_ something that Cynthia was looking forward to.

She'd already listened to several scoldings, courtesy of her parents, Inigo (with a mostly silent Lucina), and Brady, complete with a snippy, "How could anyone be so _stupid_?" speech from Severa. And she _did_ feel stupid, so stupid. Not ten minutes after Gerome had saved her from the bow knight, she had been caught off guard by a sage with a Rexcalibur tome, and the result had been that she'd been knocked clean from the saddle from about fifteen feet up... and rendered unconscious.

So now she was stuck in bed, Lissa having dubbed her as concussed, and she would have to be watched for signs of brain damage. _How embarrassing_ , she groaned to herself. All she wanted was to lie down and sleep until someone else gave the barracks something to gossip about.

Finally, the healer's voice wound down, and Cynthia thanked Naga that perhaps, she could actually get some _rest_. "Okay, Cynthia, so I'm going to leave this here in case you feel nauseated," Lissa plunked a wooden bucket at the bedside, "And try to get some sleep. I'll have Maribelle check on you in an hour or so. By then you should be able to eat a bit, if you're awake."

Cynthia nodded, though the prospect of food made her feel queasy.

"I've left some clean, damp rags, too. The coolness should ease your discomfort somewhat if you place one on your forehead, okay?"

Nodding again, all Cynthia wanted was some peace and quiet, and blessedly, Lissa took her leave. Unfortunately, not a second later, her head popped back in through the flap, "You've got another visitor, Cynthia! Aren't you popular?" she teased.

Resisting the urge to groan aloud, Cynthia pressed her fingers to her eyes. _Another tirade must be incoming,_ she thought defeatedly.

She heard the canvas lift, and Lissa called out, "Just don't stay too long, she needs her rest!"

"I understand," her visitor replied, and Cynthia did not need to open her eyes to identify them. She kept her hands to her face, attempting to block out the reality of who was in the tent. _Oh gods, why couldn't it be someone else?_ _ **Anyone**_ _else?! Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he'll go away,_ she hoped vainly.

But cold fingers met her forehead, the motion tentative, as if he was afraid the cautious motion would injure her further. "Cynthia," he said, tone as careful as his touch. "Are you… are you alright?"

Dropping her hands, Cynthia was ready with a sarcastic reply even Severa would have been proud of, but she was sidetracked when she looked at him – he was battle-weary, the black of his clothing marred by mud, dust, and blood; a streak of dirt split the pale line of his jaw. With the way he was crouched next to her, she could see the glimmer of his eyes through his mask, and they, too, were weary and drained.

Sense seemed to fly from her head as she stared at him, unable to answer his question, simple though it was, because all she could think was that clearly _he_ was not alright.

She opened her mouth to say _something, anything_ , but all that came out was, "Gerome, you–"

And suddenly, words were not the only thing trying to come up her throat; she leaned over to reach for the bucket beside her… and threw up on Gerome's boots instead.

* * *

Cynthia woke gradually, keeping her eyes shut and staying perfectly still to keep the nausea at bay. But she wondered if perhaps her concussion had induced some sort of hallucination, because it seemed as if Gerome was still there. One large palm was pressing a cool washcloth to her brow, the other stroking her hair. "It's okay," he whispered softly, and she let an eye crack open groggily.

"Gerome?" she ventured, still not sure he was real.

His fingers retreated quickly with the realization that she was awake. "Yes, it's me," he confirmed.

"Did I really throw up on you?"

He didn't answer, only shifting slightly on the stool he had chosen as a seat, and she moaned, "Oh, gods, I'm so sorry…"

"You don't need to worry about that right now," Gerome told her firmly.

"But I _threw up on you_ ," she protested, compress falling from her forehead as she tried to sit up and assess the damage.

His hands moved to her shoulders, gently but insistently pushing her back down to the pillow. "I took care of it. Just rest."

Cynthia let him, and she lay there in blissful silence for a few moments. "You don't have to stay," she murmured, thoughts still in a daze.

"But I will."

The response was surprising, but the blonde's thoughts were still out of order, and she only warned, half-joking, "I might throw up on you again."

He replaced the cloth on her face and muttered tentatively, "I wanted to talk to you."

"If it's to lecture me about being careless, can it wait? You don't have to tell me 'I told you so,' and I've already been yelled at enough today, thank you very much," she informed him with a weak petulance.

Gerome sighed. "That was not my intention."

Her silence did the talking for her – _Sure it wasn't_ , it seemed to say.

"I… wanted to apologize," he said from the corner of his mouth, the words almost unintelligible. But his voice gained clarity as he continued, "For… well, a great deal of things, to be honest. But firstly, for leaving you earlier during battle. Not many have the same range of movement that we do on the battlefield, and I should have stayed with you… I shouldn't have left you alone."

"No," she interrupted. "I should have been able to take care of myself… I should have listened to you," she added grudgingly, "Obviously."

He did not address her protest, though, only moving forward with his apology. "And I am sorry for… the other day. I did not realize that I had… upset you so."

Cynthia tried her best not to sigh exasperatedly, but she did, under her breath. "There's a lot you don't realize." He didn't seem to hear her, and she was partly relieved and partly disappointed that he hadn't.

"Inigo made it clear to me that I… hurt you, somehow, and I am sorry. What I said was not out of malice. I would never purposefully do that," he said, and his voice was somehow desperate, as if he was trying to convince her of the veracity of his words.

"But you did," she admitted, looking up at the ceiling.

"Cynthia, I – I regret it. I truly do."

She let her eyes slide back over to him, and she could tell his expression was pained, despite most of it being hidden beneath his mask. "I know," she said simply. "I forgive you, Gerome. It's okay."

In an unusual display of feeling on his part, Gerome grasped her hands in his own, shifting so he could better see her face. "I'm so sorry."

A crooked smile lifted one corner of her lips and she tilted her head, raising it from the bed. "You already said that, silly."

He exhaled all at once, loosening his grip on her hands, and told her quietly, "I think it might please you to hear… I have been spending more time with my parents in the past few days."

Cynthia's eyes widened, her raised brows displacing the rag again.

"They are… not so bad," he conceded.

"I'm happy for you, Gerome." She lay back completely, pleased with the development, as he'd predicted. "You deserve to have people around you who love you. They're already there, if only you would _let_ them love you." She succeeded at keeping her forlorn feelings from tainting her voice, but it was bittersweet – if only he would let _her_ love him.

"I will do my best" was the best he could give her, and Cynthia thought that she could find a way to be satisfied with that. Gerome was a complicated man, and she would not push him, even if it meant her own agony in the meantime.

"So… Can I assume we are back on good terms?" the wyvern rider ventured, something like hope behind his words.

"Of course we are, Gerome," Cynthia gave him the best smile she could muster. "Of course."

Long, tapered fingers reached out toward her face, almost close enough to touch... but retracted at the last moment to rest on her arm. That was how she fell asleep again – with the man she loved at her side. And this time, her sleep was peaceful and dreamless.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hi there, happy Friday everyone! Little longer than usual, hope no one minds; I just really wanted to get that last scene into this chapter.

Also, getting sick near/on your significant other... definitely a test of true love haha. Guess Gerome passes ;)

As always, thanks to my reviewers ( _OppositesExist_ and _LolAPotato_ ) and everyone else who is still around!

Next chapter to follow on **Monday!** Until then :)

(Just to warn you guys, the next chapter may be the last, but I'm not sure yet. I'll be updating my profile once I get that figured out.)

* * *

Guest review response for LolAPotato:

Hi hi! YES, Male Morgan/Nah is lovely~ It's like you stalked my support logs aha XD And yep, big brother Inigo is a personal favorite of mine.

Hope the sorting out this chapter lived up to your expectations; there will be more to follow next time! And oh yay, I'm glad you enjoyed "nuance"! And thank you again for the feedback, it's what keeps me motivated to continue writing :D


	6. cross your fingers, here we go

It was in an abandoned fort that Cynthia found herself alone with Gerome again; thankfully, she'd been released from the infirmary and her brain had been deemed free from serious injury, but she was under strict orders to remain out of combat. So while the majority of the company scouted out the area that the locals had called the "ruins of time," she had been behind to remain on watch. And Gerome was her lucky "babysitter."

Unfortunately, being stuck in camp while everyone else got to have _fun_ was not her idea of a good time, and despite their reconciliation, she still felt nervous around Gerome. So for the first hour or so of their shift, she'd ignored him, and it seemed to be just fine with her masked companion. But boredom was starting to get the better of her, and she fidgeted just to have something to _do_.

"Oh, hey, a peanut!" she said to herself, but the distraction didn't last long, and soon she was sitting on the wall, kicking her feet back and forth as she scanned the horizon half-heartedly. After a few minutes, she hummed quietly, eventually singing, "Oooooh, I wish I was a hammer! I'd hammer all day loooo—"

"Stop fidgeting!" Gerome interrupted her. When he'd come up to stand beside her, she had no idea. "We're on guard duty. ...You need to stay alert."

Sitting up straight, she said, "Vigilant! Right! That's me!...Got it." It didn't escape her notice that Gerome was often telling her to pay attention, but she couldn't help it if she was easily distracted. She decided to change the topic, "See, it's just that I can't stop thinking about when we were kids. Remember how we'd go into the woods and play Justice Cabal?" Cynthia grinned, as the memories were especially fond ones for her.

He rested his hands on the stone of the wall. "...Vaguely."

It stung that the memories she felt were so precious were only vague recollections for him, but Cynthia didn't let it show on her face. "There was that time I pretended to be a paladin and killed all those evil goblins…" she reminded him, hoping maybe the details would bring the memory into focus for him. "You said I looked truly heroic, even though the goblins were only snapdragons." Her voice had gone soft at the last phrase – that had been back when they had still been innocent, still been _happy_ , before he'd stopped being honest with her and everyone else.

She felt the rustle of fabric at her side, and glanced over to see Gerome had leaned forward over the parapet, resting his weight on his elbows. "You don't forget anything, do you?" he said, and it may have just been her imagination, but Cynthia could have sworn she heard a hint of wistfulness.

"Perhaps it's only fair that I tell you…" he began, but his voice tapered off and Cynthia could not let it alone, not when he was on the verge of revealing something about her.

"Tell me what?" she prodded gently. When he didn't answer, she could not help the near-panic she felt. "Is something wrong? Ohmigosh, there IS something wrong! This is what I've been worried about! Don't leave me hanging! Go ahead! Say it!"

Midway through her barrage of words, she'd turned to sit cross-legged on the wall, facing him, but he looked resolutely out at the horizon. "When I confessed I wasn't comfortable around you, I… lied," he admitted reluctantly. "Or at least, I wasn't clear about the real reason why..."

"Wait, so it's not that I'm too bright and cheerful?" Her expression was confused. "Then what is it?" Her chest ached with the knowledge that there was something _wrong_ with her, so wrong that it garnered dislike. "Maybe I can fix it or change it so you don't totally hate me anymore," she hoped, though it hurt to say the words aloud.

At that, he finally turned to her, bursting out, "Gods' bread! I don't hate you! You're just difficult to be around." He paused, swiveling back away from her before adding quietly, "...Because of my vertigo."

"You mean, like, your being afraid of heights?" Cynthia was still confused, but she was beginning to connect the dots… though the picture they formed still made no sense.

"Do you remember teaching me to fly when we were young?"

"Yeah, sure! You were so scared of heights you couldn't ride a wyvern! So I took you on my pegasus, and we flew and flew until you weren't afraid anymore. That was so much fun!" she recalled happily. "I haven't thought about that in ages."

"I had hoped to never think on it again…" he muttered, his face sullen.

"So, wait," she paused thoughtfully. "You hate me because I know your secret weakness?"

"No! That's not it at all!" Gerome groaned, one hand going to his mask. "...Well, maybe it is. Partly, at least," he conceded. "I have been… desperate to impress you, and yet you've already seen me for a fool."

The words had been a jumbled, embarrassed rush, but Cynthia had heard every one, and she was shocked. "No way! ...You were trying to impress _me_?!"

"Is that so unbelievable?" His voice was small, face red, and she recognized the sound of someone who expected rejection.

"Gerome! I'm crazy about you!" was her exclaimed answer, and it felt good, _so_ good, to say the words out loud, to him, and to have him _finally_ understand what she'd been trying to tell him for so long. "Why do you think I keep bugging you all the time?!" she reasoned.

It was clear that he hadn't entertained the idea that it could motivated by romantic feelings as he responded, "I... I had always thought... that it was just because we were childhood friends."

"Well, there is that," she allowed, because she treasured those memories. "But a girl doesn't hang on your every word for old time's sake!"

Leaning forward, Cynthia reached out to his face, sliding her fingers into his hair and letting one thumb trace the edge of his mask, whispering, "Really, how can someone so wonderful be so darn thick?" He reached up to enclose her hand in his, and she smiled and gave a soft chuckle, "Well, look. Now that we've cleared the air, we can start fresh."

She felt the muscles of his face shift, and it was a welcome sight when they turned up into a grin. "Yes! I suppose we can! First order of business: what's the best look for a heroic couple...?"

And it was a wonderful freedom she felt to laugh, to know that despite everything, Gerome was _worth it_.

On the outside, they may have seemed as different as night and day, but Cynthia knew that was what made them so perfect, _complete_. She had always known he was her other half, the dark to her light, the earth to her sky, and when he tugged at her, urging her down from the wall and into his arms, she thought her heart would burst.

Their bodies slotted together like puzzle pieces, and Cynthia had a feeling that the best look for this heroic couple would be in each other's arms, forever.

* * *

 **A/N:** I can't believe it's over! I really debated trying to squeeze out one more chapter, but it just didn't feel right :/

 **HOWEVER**.

I _cannot_ let Cynthia and Gerome fly off into the sunset forever without at least a kiss, and I have a few ideas for an omake one-shot featuring them and Inigo/Lucina that will follow this. IT WILL BE POSTED AS ITS OWN ONE-SHOT and will most likely fall squarely in T rating parameters.

That being said, I haven't started working on it yet as I have other projects that need attention first, but I am really excited about it. It'll be less serious than spectrum or nuance, more for fun :)

If you have any ideas as far as what you'd like to see about these guys, leave a review or shoot me a PM!

 **also,** all chapter titles are snippets of lyrics from the Troye Sivan song, "YOUTH".

 _Thank you_ to everyone who has supported this story with faves or follows or reviews! Until next time! :D


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